


Peace

by Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone



Category: Batman - Fandom, DC Comics
Genre: F/M, Mentions of sex with somewhat explicit descriptions, Non Consensual, Suggestive Themes, talks about Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:22:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone/pseuds/Youwerenevermeanttofeelalone
Summary: Your ex-boyfriend has something to tell you, it involves his brother; it also makes you accept something you had internalized for too long.
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Plus Size Reader, Damian Wayne/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	Peace

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at @youwerenevermeanttofeelalone

Cursing under your breath, you fixed your scarf as you waited to be received. The snow under your boots too out of ordinarily dense— Alfred always demanded the entrance to be free of snow. Upon making that observation you grew worried, the only occasions Alfred didn’t pay mind to those details where when an emergency was occurring and by the tone of the call you got minutes earlier,you couldn’t assume things were going.

They pulled the door open and left it that way so you’d walk yourself inside. Never a positive indication. You recognized the steps walking away from you like Jason’s, his presence in the manor so rare that you hurried in. Catching up with Jason was always hard, his strides were big and the fact that you were freezing didn’t help your situation at all.

Jason held the door to a sitting room open for you, looking at you with sympathy, bordering in pity; Tim had obviously told him you weren’t dating anymore. You thanked him, scanning the place to try to asses why had you been summoned. Swallowing your spit at the sight of Stephanie just beside Tim, you cleared your throat to not interrupt whatever they were doing.

You weren’t stupid, there was something between them. Although it hurt, you had nothing against either of them— it relieved you to know Tim had been honest and loyal throughout your relationship and if his happiness was with Steph, so be it.

Your ex-boyfriend pointed to one of the unoccupied cushioned armchairs, next to the one Jason had just sat on. You took your seat, your eyes dancing from Tim to Steph, to Jason. Tim sighed, “we need your help.” He sounded tired, more than usual, worried.

Nodding, you moved a hand to prompt him to explain what was going on. Tim looked down, Jason shifted beside you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your nerves spiking up.

“Damian disappeared,” Tim explained. You turned to Jason, hoping he’d give you more telling, but he avoided looking at you.

“And how can I help? Is Bruce informed? And Dick?”

“Yes, he’s fine, but he doesn’t want to talk to us— not even with Alfred. He will talk to you.” Tim removed his hair from his forehead, sighing again— a sign you knew well, one of nervousness— “at least I hope.”

“So you know where he is?”

Tim nodded. Jason’s exasperated sigh didn’t go unnoticed by you. Before you could ask, the oldest of the two brothers spoke, “tell her, Tim.”

Tim picked his mug, mumbling something inaudible on the lip of it and taking a long gulp. You felt yourself starting to tense up, many occasions you had seen your ex-boyfriend do that and it always led to a clash.

He put the drink down on the table, “Remember the last time we had sex?”

How could you forget? You had assumed your relationship was getting better after a bad month. He had been so attentive that night, so passionate— his lips hadn’t left an inch of your body untouched, he had shown to have listened to what you had suggested weeks prior and blindfolded you, Tim had shown you a side of him you didn’t think to exist. He hadn’t been too extreme but he had definitely been rougher than ever, tying your hands and eating you out quite harshly even though he usually avoided giving you oral sex. Now you saw it as a passionate goodbye, it saddened you because it had been the best sexual experience you ever had but it was what it was.

“Yeah,” you rasped, uncomfortable by speaking about it in front of other people. “Why?”

“I– promise me you won’t get mad.”

Stephanie shook her head which made you realize you would definitely get mad. Scenarios crossed your mind, had he recorded you without your consent? Did he have an STD and didn’t tell you at the time? Did you have an STD you didn’t know about and passed it to him?

“What did you do?”

Tim licked his lips. “It wasn’t me. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t know how... it was Damian, I t—“

“You did what?!” you blurted a yell.

He lifted a hand to prevent you from interrupting so he could finish justifying himself. You shook your head, standing up. Your nerves were eating you alive, Damian Wayne had seen you naked and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it!

“Why the fuck did you do that, Timothy?”

He watched you, trying to find the words that would make you less mad. “I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset and... look, I knew Damian liked you so I told him you wanted to try new stuff.”

“You didn’t ask me...” you trailed off, feeling everyone staring at you. Embarrassment was an understatement, your ex-boyfriend was telling you he made his brother have sex with you without your consent and from what you gathered the entire family knew. Snatching your purse, you stormed off the room. You ignored their calls for you to get back in the same way Tim had ignored your opinions and wishes.

On the way to your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what else had he lied about, which things hadn’t been real. It was a nightmare, now doubting the best romantic memories you had to even be real. Everything reminded you about your relationship with Tim, the elevator where you had shared your first passionate kiss, that centerpiece on the coffee table he bought for you when he went out of the country for a business trip, the couch and how many times you cuddled there...

You didn’t wish to enter your bedroom even though it hadn’t been difficult to do it when he moved out. You had been so understanding, somewhat naive, you didn’t question him further on when he said the relationship wasn’t working. It hurt, but your consolation had been his honesty, one you now knew to have been false.

You laid down on the couch, facing the ceiling. What a way to spend a Friday evening, in anguish for an ex. Letting it affect you pissed you off, but you were human after all and he had betrayed your trust. As you continued to think about it, the situation turned worse.

From Tim’s family, you were the closest to Damian and Cass. Everyone was nice and kind, even Bruce whom you had found intimidating the first few times you interacted with, but Cass and Damian were special in their own peculiar ways. You had been told you were lucky to have met Damian as a grownup, he had even agreed although you were never given a proper explanation, and it had taken you a few tries to find things to have in common with Cassandra but when you got there your friendship with her became one of the highlights of your life.

Now you wouldn’t be able to look at your friends in the face. Maybe Cass wouldn’t judge you, but Damian had every right to do it. He had seen every inch of your body, touched it with both his hands and mouth, he had been inside you— and it had been the best night of your life.

Buzzing startled you, the vibration of your cellphone against the wooden table annoying you to no end. Extending your arm, you declined the call without looking at the screen. The device buzzed again, now in your hand; reading the caller’s name, you pondered on your options— you could turn the cellphone off and risk Dick breaking into your apartment or pick up. A hard decision, you didn’t want to talk about anything with anyone.

Deciding to get it over with, you picked up at the last ringing. “Hey, Dick.”

“(N/N)!” you could hear the relief in his voice, “Jay told me you left the manor very upset.”

“Yeah... what do you need?”

Dick exhaled very loudly, making you wince, “it’s Dami... he doesn’t want to talk with anyone. Jon tried, Alfred tried, Cass tried, I tried...”

“I can’t help you.” You didn’t feel ready to face him, you weren’t even sure you were ready to process what had happened. “Give him space, Dick, he needs it.”

“I’m worried. He never shuts himself off so drastically...”

Yeah, you knew. “I’ll text him.”

“He didn’t take his phone. But you know in which safe house he is.”

❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎

Crazy, you were fucking crazy for going out in the middle of the night. It was freezing outside, the fog from the cold and sleet making it harder for you to see in the dark. The Wayne family would be responsible for your death, you were sure, good thing Bruce was rich so he could at least pay for your funeral.

You fixed the hood of your jacket, sleet tapping against the material as you continued your walk. Your hands were numb, the gloves not really warming them up. Driving hadn’t been an option, it was too dangerous and your eyes were too tired from crying.

The streets got darker as you approached your destination, your harsh breathing getting louder. The smoke coming out of your mouth because of the cold was the only indicator of life around you, your steps having to be slower in order for you to not trip only another reminder that you could’ve been under your warm covers. You continued complaining, inwardly, with your nerves about to burst until you recognized the front of the property.

Punching the code at the gates had been harder than you anticipated, with your fingers nearly rigid. The front lawn was in perfect condition as it always did, but the lights were off. You walked up the front steps out of memory like Cass had taught you to do. Lifting your fist, you let it linger on the air for a few seconds, unsure.

It was the right thing to do, you were freezing and going back would mean definitely dying from hypothermia, and yet you weren’t ready. It terrified you more than being kidnapped which had always been so plausible in a city as dangerous as Gotham and with the acquaintances you had. Facing it meant closing a cycle, and closing the cycle would mean having to start again...

Resigned, you knocked twice, made a pause, then knocked twice again. You couldn’t hear any sound coming from inside, but that didn’t mean much. The door cracked open, an annoyed sigh greeting you as a green eye peeked from inside. Damian swung the door open and took you by the wrist, pulling you in with ease.

The entrance was locked as soon as you were inside, his fingers still around your wrist as with his other hand he made sure every lock was on.

“What were you thinking?” Damian snapped. “It’s freezing outside!”

You snatched your wrist off his grip, dying to get your backpack off your shoulders. “I was worried about you.”

“You could’ve died.”

“I couldn’t sleep! I was worried, Damian.” He hated when you repeated things, you shouldn’t have done it at that moment when he was so annoyed but you were annoyed too, and tired, and cold, and worried, and confused, and scared.

“I heard you the first time. Why didn’t you at least drive here?”

“You would’ve scolded me for driving under this weather.”

He took a proper look at you. Damian was good at reading you, your body language, the tone of your voice. There were four persons he knew like the back of his hand: Bruce, Talia, Dick, and you. “You’ve been crying...” it wasn’t a question, nor a prompt to explain yourself. He made the observation, tore his eyes away from you and stepped back.

You were sure he knew by now Tim had told you. There wasn’t any other reason why Damian would suddenly be so tense, not with you. You knew him very well yourself, not to the point he did with you but that came with the training you had never even imagined could exist. There were things, however, Damian didn’t pay attention to about himself that you did— his inclination toward sweet and savory desserts, for example, or the way he hid behind his clothes when anxious, the changes in his voice when in presence of an animal, how his eyes sparkled when he spoke about medicine.

“What did he say?”

“Who?”

“You know damn well who.”

Damian didn’t like losing time, you should’ve also remembered that. “Just what happened that night,” you mumbled, his jaw setting when you didn’t elaborate on it.

“Did you appear here to tell me you hate me?” he surprised you by asking.

You couldn’t help but frown, no matter how frustrating it could be to him. Damian would always tell you frowning didn’t suit you. “Why would I hate you? You didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know either,” he refuted. “That’s not how consent works.”

“I’m aware that’s not how consent works!”

“Then?” Damian pressed, standing perfectly straight. “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Why do you want me to hate you?!” you squealed. You could only imagine that it would be better for him if you hated him so the topic wasn’t touched upon ever again, but you could never hate Damian.

He lifted his arms in exasperation, “because I should’ve asked you at that moment! I shouldn’t have listened to Drake! I shouldn’t have let m—“ he stopped himself abruptly, right hand flying toward his forehead. He rubbed his face, huffing through his nose.

“What? You shouldn’t have let what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” you encouraged him, “it can’t be worse than my ex-boyfriend implying to me in front of his new girlfriend that instead of straight-up telling me he didn’t want me anymore he convinced my close friend to fuck me.” Oh, wow. It sounded worse when you said it out loud— it didn’t even sound real, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t.

Damian stood there, silently avoiding you. His eyes were solely focused on the wall in front of him, face neutral. How much time passed wasn’t relevant, you were too lost in thought to realize or care. He wouldn’t say anything, and you wouldn’t press on the subject anymore when you had been humiliated so badly. Going there was a mistake, worrying was a mistake, telling him anything had been a mistake. Just like he thought he should’ve done things differently, you were sure you shouldn’t have risked confrontation. Perhaps what annoyed you the most was that he seemed to want you away from him as you had predicted he would, and it hurt way more than what Tim had done.

You hunched down to pick up your backpack, dropping it again when he cleared his throat. “I didn’t require convincing.”

Believing to have understood his words wrong, you stared up at him through your lashes. Tim’s words came to you, _”I knew Damian liked you.”_ When he said it you had assumed he meant Damian liked you as a friend but not that Damian Wayne **liked** you. It didn’t sound bad, just highly unrealistic.

He didn’t repeat himself nor furthered his comment, he just stared back. The yellow tones in his green eyes got more prominent the longer you stared, looking like sunlight warming the prettiest forest you’d ever seen. You straightened your back as you shifted on your feet, not sure of what to say.

“Why didn’t you—“

“Say anything?” he interrupted you. You nodded. Damian shrugged, eyes again diverting from your face, “Drake always gets what I want, I wasn’t even surprised.”

You hated the way he said it, so upset his amalgamated accent turned thicker. You were at loss of words, you had never seen him that way— not because you didn’t think he was handsome but because he was Damian Wayne, your close friend, a guy way out of your league.

“I wish you had said something, but I understand.”

Damian lifted both eyebrows. “Would it have changed anything?”

“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. It was so easy to be truthful with him, so freeing.

“You looked happy.”

Tim understood many things without needing an explanation. His body was different from his friend’s and family’s so he never judged yours, he’d remind you there was nothing wrong with being the way you were so often that you had started to believe it. You could put up with the nights of worry and the fights that came with his carelessness because you felt loved and accepted and wanted to give him just that. Tim had been great up until that early afternoon.

And Tim wasn’t Damian. Tim didn’t have time to put up with your rants, he was a detective by day and vigilante by night. Tim couldn’t be there every time you needed company after a bad day, Tim in his sleep-deprived state forgot important dates and details. You had always admired the way Damian’s brain worked, how efficient he was, but you had never stopped to ask him how was he able to do that; it hadn’t even crossed your mind that he could be doing a sacrifice because he cared about you.

“I was.”

Silence filled the living room. Damian had his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, your fingers brushed the strap of your backpack as you wiggled them to keep them from cramping. He had the ability to bend everything over his will, his mood could change yours in seconds, his stance stirred rooms. You felt the temperature dropping, not sure if it was physical or metaphorical, and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to leave.

You didn’t want to leave. Everyone would call you crazy, but Damian’s presence had always been comforting. His silence, his bluntness— you were scared of losing that, how clearer he made things when you were confused, how much you learned from him. Things would never go back to normal, your friend liked you for some reason and you didn’t know what to think about it, he had seen you naked without you even being aware, and it seemed like he hadn’t hated what he saw. But leaving was the best option. You were confused, overall scared, and Damian couldn’t be of comfort at that moment— he shouldn’t.

Zipping up your jacket, you let out a sigh. “Just go home, man. Your family is worried.”

His low hum caught your attention. Expecting him to say something else would’ve been losing your time, Damian wasn’t a fan of being told what to do. However, he snatched his coat from the hanger and slid it on. Damian took his car keys and wiggled them, wordlessly telling you he’d drive you.

You tried to protest, using the fact that it was past 7:00 AM already. Damian wasn’t having it, it was still cold outside. You were desperate to get home already, you needed time with yourself and the sooner you got it the better.

The silence between you two not being uncomfortable throughout the ride was astounding. It felt colder in the car than back at the safe house, probably because the sleet hadn’t ceased but mostly because you were on edge. He didn’t attempt to talk nor to do anything else then drive really, he looked calm as always, so collected it unnerved you. You considered for a moment that he had simply told you what he did out of pity then discarded the thought because Damian wasn’t like that.

In any other situation, you would’ve found curious how deeply you knew him, but it was starting to scare you. One thing was being aware of what your friend liked or disliked but not even self-sabotaging your thoughts because you knew them that well was in the highest level of knowledge about someone. It meant you thought about him more often than you had ever cared to admit, more than you had ever realized.

You had so much to ponder on, to worry about. How long would it take to close the cycle of your relationship with Tim when now you weren’t sure if it had been honest or not? Would your friendship with Damian be ruined by what happened plus his attraction toward you? Were you attracted to him?

In the apartment, the silence was different, deafening. The place felt bigger than it was, bigger than it had felt when you left in the middle of the night. Unfolding the blanket you always kept on the couch, you wrapped it around your body and curled up with your head on the arm of the furniture. You also turned the tv on, hoping the noise would help you get some sleep.

Nothing helped, your mind wasn’t letting you rest. It insisted on replaying Damian’s unwavering tone when he said he hadn’t needed convincing. You probably wouldn’t have needed convincing either if Tim had asked you to fuck his brother, but it felt... wrong. Saying you had internalized your attraction toward Damian to protect yourself was an understatement, the potential rejection was scary but it wasn’t in the top five of the things you feared in relation to him— and that only proved you actually liked him back.

Conflicted was putting it lightly. If someone would’ve asked you the morning before if you had feelings for Damian Wayne you would’ve laughed, now you couldn’t take the idea off your mind. Processing it all would require time, the comfort he gave you, the confidence, seemingly the pleasure— you were seeing him in another light, and the worst part of it was that you weren’t startled by it.

Finding natural to be attracted to someone you had never seen that way before wasn’t how you expected your week to start.

You assumed Damian had eventually gotten back to the manor, your phone hadn’t buzzed too much throughout the weekend apart from a few messages in your friend’s group text. A nice contrast with your mind which was reeling from Friday and your newfound passion.

Was it just passion? You didn’t know, you weren’t sure of wanting to. Damian had started to consume all your thoughts and feelings, your dreams too— the anger you had felt from finding out Tim hadn’t been the one to pleasure you that night had dissipated by the second morning you woke up soaking wet due to a dream. It obviously had more to do with your libido than with anything else, but the new perspective was better.

Seeing it that way made you feel dirty. If you closed your eyes and let your mind wander back to that night you now could see Damian hovering over you, the greenest eyes you had ever seen staring into your soul with dilated pupils— you could picture the smirk you had felt against your skin as he nipped on your thigh. He was driving you crazy without knowing it, but him knowing terrified you.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎

Taking alone time for yourself was the best decision you could’ve taken. You didn’t find all the answers nor closure regarding Tim and you felt really lonely, but you decided to focus on what you could— it gave you perspective, about Damian, about your interpersonal relationships in general, what you wanted, what you enjoyed.

Damian hadn’t contacted you. It would’ve bothered you if you weren’t so familiar with him. He wouldn’t call until you showed signs of wanting to talk, he was too busy to beg— and even if he wasn’t, Damian Wayne never begged.

When ready, you texted your group chat with Damian and Cass as nothing had happened. Both texted you individually about very different topics as they always did, it was something you thoroughly enjoyed about them.

Damian’s answers were quicker than usual, yours shorter. You didn’t want things to be awkward between you two, but you didn’t really know what to say; or if you should say anything about what had happened.

What if not speaking about it was for the best? You liked him, the realization of it scared you to no end, and he liked you back. He fucking liked you back, why or how only he knew, but the fact that he did felt good yet it mingled with guilt. He was Tim’s brother, and although your ex-boyfriend hadn’t had consideration toward you, you felt bad.

Damian took over your thoughts, as you did house chores, as you worked, as you went out with your other friends... now you missed him in a way you had never missed anyone. His annoyed sighs, his tutting, his interesting topics of conversation, how funny he could get to be, his handsome face, his silky voice...

And so you texted him, asking if he was busy. He didn’t reply, at least not in the next five minutes. You turned the device off, not wanting to continue hopefully staring at it. Some would say it was childish, but you genuinely weren’t in the headspace to be rejected.

Pounding on the front door took you out of the tv show you were watching. Untangling yourself from the fuzzy blanket, you dragged your feet against the floor.

Damian slid past you as soon as you swung the door open, his steps more silent than ever as he analyzed the living room. His eyes stopped on the pile of folded clothes next to the couch for a prolonged moment before he continued what he had been doing.

You locked the door, estranged by his actions. “Are you looking for something?” you asked, the crack of your voice caused by how little you had used it that day making you wince, he’d surely realize.

He glared at you from behind the arch of the kitchen. “I thought you were in danger.” Before you could say something, he spoke again, “what happened to your phone?”

“Nothing.” You picked the cellphone from the center table and turned it on to show him.

Damian inhaled deeply, clearly keeping himself from snapping at you. He walked back to the living room, shaking his head once or twice while mumbling something in Arabic, and leaning against the wall just next to the window from where he could take a peek of the mostly white snowy street.

You went through your phone to avoid the tension between you two. The second worst idea you had that day, the first being texting him. You had multiple texts from him, a few from Dick, missing calls from the entire family. In your attempts to not get your heart broken you didn’t stop to think how it would seem to Damian if you suddenly stopped responding after asking if he was busy.

“Why are your clothes in the living room?” his inquiry bounced against the window glass.

You stayed quiet, he’d surely get the hint you didn’t want to talk about that.

He did get the hint, he also ignored it. The least you could do, in his mind, was answer his questions after worrying so bad. “(Y/N)?”

Lying to Damian was so hard you didn’t even try it. “I’m not using my closet anymore,” you explained, looking for the remote to turn the TV off in order to have an excuse to not look at him.

In contrast, he focused on you. You were now folding the blanket to keep your hands busy, fixing the pillows on the couch so it would look in the same fashion it always did.

“You’re not sleeping in your room.” Damian wasn’t sure if it came off as a question or an observation but it was the latter.

You shook your head, inwardly, and uselessly, begging he’d drop the topic at that. You were ashamed to accept what happened was affecting you, and even more ashamed by the fact that it was affecting you in ways you never expected. His silence was worse than being alone, there he was with his arms crossed once again, jaw clenched, and attention out of the window. You considered turning the TV back on just to feel less uncomfortable, less exposed.

Connecting the dots wouldn’t be hard for anyone aware of the situation. You should’ve said something, explain it didn’t have to do with him— not negatively at least— but you were too nervous, almost on edge which was getting too frequent for your liking.

Willing him to say something, you focused on him as if the intensity of your gaze would make a difference. He was already watching you like a hawk, analyzing every twitch. Damian uncrossed his arms, his palms slapping against his thighs as he pushed himself off the wall. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. Masking how surprised you were by his apology had been hard, probably pointless when he knew you so well.

“It’s no excuse.”

“Damian, please.” Your voice got smaller, the last word coming as a mere whisper. Speaking about it terrified you, he was right and you wished it wasn’t the case— you had tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t given you his consent either and you didn’t have a way to know if he had enjoyed himself. The longer you thought about it, the dirtier you felt.

You were angry at yourself for not having known better, at Tim for not being honest... but you weren’t mad at Damian. Should you have been when he was almost as unaware as you? Wanting to be sure, to at least have some closure, you asked, “when did he tell you the truth?”

“The night before he told you.”

“Why do you feel so bad about it, then?”

He sighed shakily, dropping his head forward. He hoped that if he stared long enough the floor would open and swallow him, it would be way better than having you hear the truth. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he explained, eyes on the same spot they had been for the past couple of minutes. He heard your breath hitching, the swallow of your spit. Damian braced himself to be slapped when he heard the thud of the blanket being dropped on the cushioned arm of the couch.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“What?” Damian’s gaze snapped upward, completely lost as to why you could be apologizing.

You clarified what you meant, “I’m sorry you had to see... me.”

“You idiot! I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Damian hated how insecure you could be, he knew it to be natural in an environment where people believe their personal standards to be the norm but it was horrible to see. He had tried his best to make you understand there was nothing shameful about your body but it seemed like he had failed. “It’s not...” he groaned, straightening his posture. There went nothing. “I feel guilty because I get turned on thinking about it.”

Oh. Well, at least you weren’t the only one who thought about it constantly. The days consequent to that night hadn’t been easy, the break up had come too soon and the only thing you had as consolation was that night. The fact that you had touched yourself while thinking about Damian without knowing was weird, it felt intrusive and at the same time thrilling— adding it to the fact that then you had wet dreams about it wasn’t a good look. Or yes, who knew at that point? Surely not you.

“For what it’s worth, me too.” Your face was burning up as the words left your lips. Your sex life wasn’t something you talked about with Damian, and when you did it with Cass you spared her the details because she didn’t like hearing about Tim in that way.

“But you didn’t know it was me,” he reminded you, and himself.

You made a face, “I don’t really care that much... it sounds bad but I don’t. It was my first orgasm in months.”

Damian stepped closer, naturally towering over you. You gazed up, trying to make sense as to what he was doing.“Am I reading this wrong?” he inquired in a whisper, fingers flexing to stop himself from touching you.

“No.”

He cupped your face with a hand, his freezing cold fingers making you shudder. He leaned in slowly, leisurely, his breath hit your skin and his nose brushed yours but he still didn’t kiss you— not yet. Arm snaking around your waist, he licked his lips. You couldn’t take it anymore and closed the gap, moving your lips against his as your hands rested firmly on his shoulders to not lose balance.

Kissing Damian was an experience, there wasn’t any other way to call it. He wasn’t in a hurry, his tongue had just tickled your mouth open but he hadn’t made a move to deepen the kiss. The heat from his body didn’t feel human, it transferred to your insides— it made butterflies swarm around in your stomach. For someone who hadn’t known they were attracted to their closest friend, your body was reacting as if you had been longing for that moment your entire life. You felt like floating, with his arms around your waist and neck respectively and his tongue tickling yours.

You didn’t want to part from him, oxygen was getting scarce and you found yourself thinking you’d rather die than stop kissing him. He found a good middle ground, recovering his breath with his right cheek against your left one. Inhaling your perfume in the process, he tightened his arms to have your body completely flush on his.

You moved your head to face him, finding the most peaceful semblance you had ever seen on him. Damian waited for your move, or your words, his eyes dancing all over your face. He had never had you so close, not properly, he hadn’t thought it would be possible to find more details to like about you but there he was, in awe of your beauty.

Tentatively, you kissed him again. He kissed back immediately, this once around not taking his time at all. You whined on his mouth, making him grunt. You caressed his thick hair, fingers burying between the dark locks as you pulled him impossibly closer. Damian pushed your body backward, your calves hitting the edge of the couch as he sucked your bottom lip between his.

You brought him down with you, his first reaction being to place his open palm on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hurt yourself as you tried not to giggle. He huffed a laugh himself, pecking your lips before dragging his own down to your jaw.

As he kissed your neck, he asked, “what do you want, Amira?”

Your attempts of getting out of bed failed the next morning, Damian pulled you closer as soon as he felt you move. You didn’t have any other option than placing your head on his hard chest, your index finger mindlessly tracing patterns against his dark olive skin. The tips of his fingers ghosted your back up and down, his steady breathing threatening to lull you back to sleep.

“I have to go to work.”

He hummed in answer yet gave no signal of wanting to let you go. If it was up to you, you would stay there with him for the entire day, in the little bubble you two had created the night before and would probably burst once you had to talk about it.

It didn’t feel like a mistake which should have surprised you, actually, you couldn’t think about a better decision you had taken in your life. Dramatic, sure, but no less true.

“Just call in sick,” he grumbled, properly tucking both your bodies into the covers. You could feel the ripple of his muscles as he did it, with just one hand as with his other arm he kept you in place.

You huffed a laugh, “I’ve only called in sick once.”

“An even stronger reason to do it now.”

“Don’t you have to go to work too?”

Damian snorted, moving his head to stare at you. You did the same when you heard and felt him shuffle. “Will you stay if I say no?”

As much as you dreaded the idea of leaving for work and not seeing his handsome face, you also dreaded the idea of having to see him go.

Damian seemed to have read your mind and interpret your silence, he brushed your cold cheek with his knuckles. His steady breathing quickened a little bit, you wouldn’t have been aware of it if your head hadn’t been resting on him. “Will you avoid me again if I let you get up?”

You shuffled just enough to face him, both your hands flat on his chest. “It wasn’t personal against you.”

“It felt like it.”

“I needed time, that’s all.”

“For what?”

You took a sharp intake of air, swallowing your excess of saliva as you exhaled. “Think, meditate... however you want to call it.”

“Is that why you don’t want to use your bedroom?”

“We’re literally in my bedroom.”

He rolled his eyes, “that doesn’t mean you want to use it.”

You stared down at your hands, the natural light of the morning making Damian’s skin glow under them. “It’s strange.”

“Why?”

“I think—“ you stopped for a moment to consider your phrasing, there wasn’t any other way of saying it and getting the point across than being direct. “At first it was because of what happened that night.” You felt him tense up, your fingers immediately rubbing circles over his skin in attempts of soothing him. “But then, after I tried to convince you to go back to the manor... it just doesn’t feel the same knowing things between us won’t be like they were before because it something that happened here.” You could’ve had articulated it better, but you didn’t want to mention Tim.

“Do you want that?” Upon seeing the confusion in your face he reformulated the question, “do you want us to be like we were before?”

”You don’t?”

He shook his head in answer. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m your best friend?”

“That’s Jon.”

You lifted your fingers to playfully slap them against his chest, “don’t be sassy with me.”

“I don’t like you the way I tolerate him.”

”isn’t it weird?” you mumbled the question.

Damian pursed his lips, looking up in thought. You took your time to stare at him some more, your fingers itching to trace his facial structure. “Because of Drake?”

“Your entire family,” you clarified, wishing you could avoid the topic altogether.

“I honestly don’t care.” You only hummed. His eyelashes fluttered as he dropped his gaze, his hand back to caressing your face. “What do you think?”

“I think,” you said through a sigh, “that I’m calling in sick.”

He smirked, withdrawing his arms to allow you movement. You shivered due to the change of temperature as soon as your legs swung from the bed, a pair of panties and a t-shirt were the only clothing covering you; you hadn’t really needed more than that and the duvet to sleep warmly, Damian’s body was extremely hot— literally, in both aesthetics and temperature.

Damian granted himself the pleasure of staring at your body as you stood just in front of him while making the phone call, the bouncing of your left leg, the slight tilt of your head, your shifty eyes while listening to whatever your interlocutor was saying. The longer he stared the stronger the urge of pulling you back into bed got. The phone call hadn’t even been lengthy, he was being a brat, but it wasn’t as if he cared.

He sat up near the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor without any effort thanks to his height. You thanked your boss, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized Damian had changed positions. Your eyes diverted down to his torso at the same time the line clicked.

Putting your cellphone down on the bedside table, you asked, “do you want something for breakfast?”

He opened his legs for you to stand between them, hands ready to be placed on your sides the second you complied. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hot breath giving you goosebumps as it hit your neck.

Lightly brushing your face as he ever so slightly turned his, he spoke with his lips against your jaw, “Are you on the menu?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, then.”

Damian ignored the way you rolled your eyes and continued trailing kisses over your jaw and chin. You gripped his hair so he’d face you, leaning down to kiss him when he did so. His arms snaked your hips as he kissed back, opening his mouth a little bit more than you which gave you some type of advantage.

“I really like you,” you finally said out loud, mouth still hovering over his.

You felt him smile. It prompted you to put some distance between your faces in order to take the sight in. He didn’t smile often, you weren’t sure as to why but you had theories— that didn’t matter, what did was that he had gifted you an honest smile, one that showed his dimples and brightened his eyes.

The urge to cup his face overcame you, your hands slowly slid toward his jaw and as they abandoned his hair— Damian nuzzled against your left one. Your thumbs caressed his cheek softly, his inhaling and exhaling making the small hairs on your arms stand up and fall down at the rhythm of his breathing.

You hadn’t felt so much peace in a long time, it might have been the pride flowing through you at the fact that he wasn’t very open with people— much less when it came to emotions— but you let yourself entertain the idea that the real reason behind it was how easy it had always been to be yourself around him.

It only hit you when he locked his eyes with yours that you were making him feel the same way. No amount of self-sabotaging or teasing from his family could take that away from you.


End file.
